Sleeping Princes
by LiveLoveLaugh
Summary: They suppose it was one of those remarkable moments that take their breath away. One of those times where, without the jealousy and the killing, would they finally be at rest. [Sakura factor] Oneshots. Most Recent Victim: Gaara
1. Prologue: Sleeping Princes

**Disclaimer:** Whatever, I don't need to own Naruto to write fanfiction.

Penname: _LiveLoveLaugh_

FanFiction Story: **Sleeping Princes**

**Summary:** They called her a slut, a whore. Sweetheart. Even lucky. Life goes on, as one by one she passed every man in her life. She had a chance to sleep with every one of them, too. But…who said anything about sex? (Sakura-factor) One-shots

**_Author's Note_:** I came across one of my old school binders when I was cleaning up my room, and like all late spring-cleaners, we tend to run through the memories a bit more. I was studying my poetry and I ran through the lines of Millay, and since I loved her work very much, I thought I could give her a story. And by hours of reminiscing through that one I liked the most: '_What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why?_' I knew what I wanted to write. Uh, you have to read a bit into this one. Please have a good read!

**_Prologue: Sleeping Princes_**

* * *

What lips my lips have kissed, and where, and why,

I have forgotten, and what arms have lain

Under my head till morning; but the rain

Is full of ghosts tonight, that tap and sigh

Upon the glass and listen for reply;

And in my heart there stirs a quiet pain

For unremembered lads that not again

Will turn to me at midnight with a cry.

Thus in the winter stands a lonely tree,

Nor knows what birds have vanished one by one,

Yet knows its boughs more silent than before:

I cannot say what loves have come and gone;

I only know that summer sang in me

A little while, that in me sings no more.

-Edna St. Vincent Millay

* * *

Her dull emerald eyes stared at the beautifully written calligraphy of an old dusty leather book, she scanned the cream colored fine papers of her past mother's old inspirations. She stood over the silver-black marble stand at which she fingered the craved imbedded writing of her name, the hero's grave for her mother amongst the under heroes. She watched silently as her dour silent father, a retired shinobi, had resided faraway with a black umbrella, closer to the drier spots underneath the tree branches while the grayish-blue clouds had hovered closely over the valley. Soft showers of cold rain had sprinkled on top of her body, watering the muddy grass against the grave pavement and whether it were her tears or the rain was blotting her eyes, she did not know. 

The young woman couldn't remember how frail and cold her entire body was. How her body had clung to the thin black fabric of her funeral clothes, how her dripping tresses had dipped down to the green blue pasture, how the time had passed by that she had forgotten about the numbness of her feet that pierced into the soft ground and the slow pain of her neck as she pressed her high forehead against the cold plate of the tombstone.

She just couldn't.

And in moment, in that strong intense moment after the long denial, she burst into true bitter tears and let out an unfeminine crack of a voice crossed with a sob where she slapped her chilled trembling hand over her squealing mouth, her face contorted into screaming and shrieks, her eyes were shaking to the sight of the grave, she cried and wept and she threw her arms over the coffin covered with white flowers and wilting blossoms, next to the grave stone written up full of nameless names and of historical faces where silver wisps had looked upon her with grieving faces, that they too had witnessed this scene. She screamed, her body fidgeted, her front was pushed against the hard wood of the long coffin and she screamed her mother's name, and she wished for more than just this, she wished to see that familiar face again that would never be homely to her again. The pink hair had spade against the dark polished wood and her willowy arms had wrapped over the casket, wailing and mourning for the loss she'll soon forget.

The poetry book had lain on the wet grass, forgotten too, and the memories had still buried itself in her head.

The poor maiden had screamed for long hours, her voice was hoarse and dry, but her voice had carried villagers out of their homes in a wake to look up into the cloudy rainy late afternoon and they felt the tears of heaven on their face. They had almost forgotten, too, of lost and their loved ones clung to their clothing, wanting them back into the house where the warmth would surround them and they again forget and they thought of happier things, but still until dawn the woman embracing the coffin over the dead body had sobbed louder and their dreams that night were filled with that screams of that one name.

And unknowing to her, many people in a quiet audience had stood behind the roseate-haired young woman. Every one of them was all dressed in black robes over matching slacks, with black sandals. They watched her body, scolding her inwardly, and they too wished they could have done that when they lost their loved ones. They smelled, even when they didn't sniff, of the wet air of the forest and dirt, and the scents within them had occupied their minds.

They didn't stop her from being so foolish, so reckless, so unbelievable stupid.

She didn't know when her sobbing father had leaned against the rough bark of a lone tree, seeking for comfort, the kind of comfort no one but his wife could have given him. Her tall blond companion adorned in traditional red and white garb, stood staring at her frozen body as she kneeled achingly over the tombstone, looking at her with sad blue eyes. Her best friend stared mournfully at her, her platinum hair was wet and stuck to her pale face. The now retired Fifth had held herself with the new Hokage and Yamanaka in her black robes that slim her never aging youthful body, as all eyes were on her motherless apprentice. Her old teacher, with his reckless body slumped in depression when he remembered the many funerals that passed by in his lifeless yet meaningful years.

He whispered the name of his best friend, his female companion, his teacher, his father's name…more than anything in the life, he whispered the names of his three most prized students, even when he taught many other teams after they had broke apart, and he looked after the female, but his ears had heard a crumple of grass far from behind him.

He glanced with his exotic eye at a surprising crowd of men who walked up to him in traditional funeral robes. Naruto stared stunned at them too, as they bowed their heads forward in respect to him. Kakashi could see their eyes had trailed over the young woman who clasped against the tombstone, yelling out her fallen mother's name. It was a long while when her father had walked away sobbing on his sleeve. It was a long while since Kakashi had seen the faceless ghouls of men who stood behind him, he glanced at him with the same kind of stare they gave back to him.

The water dripped persistently over the strands of his silver-gray hair. His visible eye was hollow and black. Since he was older, more experienced, he nodded in respect. He had almost forgotten about these men. The legendary men who loved her, who cared for her, who were all so much more closer to the pink-haired woman than other man would ever be.

How long was it? Oh, yes, for many years, Sakura had seen these men, one by one, by two, three at a time. And yet, even when she loved more than one man, because her love was like that, she was able to love them all equally and none of them, surprisingly enough, had ever went on a jealous envious rampage but they begged for the wishes of the beautiful maiden to be granted, because she meant so much to them. Even when she held another man in her comforting arms, they were never angry at her.

Kakashi watched as each man began to reminisce about the wailing lost ghost of a woman in front of them, whether this were the woman they fell in love with or was it all a illusion. They had on solemn solid faces, their faces casting down when they only looked at the ground but was still able to look at the weeping woman.

The old man saw in their faces, in their eyes, in their desire, their greed, their lust to want her, to need her, to take her, to do all sorts of things with her, and yet they couldn't have her, no matter how many times they dreamt in their dreams. Kakashi watched as each of them came to a half-conclusion as they stared enviously at each other, contemplating who could have her, and who couldn't.

_Who_ could have her? _Who_ could not?

He shook his head inwardly. This wasn't some sick love-triangle.

Well, maybe.

Only _one_ man could have Sakura, and the _others_ would be pushed aside.

It always worked that way. And he knew these men were good men, and even through greed, they wanted to be gentlemen and they sacrifice their inner demons, repress their sorrow even when she went to the man she truly did love. And they live a life with another woman they didn't love as truly as Sakura, but they were content with that. But sometimes, it didn't work that way. The jealousy burned deep within them, his lips thinned from behind his soaked face mask. Watching them, as they stood still when the girl they loved was suffering her own inner demons.

When Sakura screamed and cried to her bitter heart's content, none of her friends, her teachers, the other people had stopped her when she fisted the handfuls of the white funeral flowers that crumbled in her hands when her cheek was pushed against the cold hard wood, she yelled for her mother, hidden in that casket like it was a game they played in their childhood. She wanted her mother to stop kidding around, and actually come out. She wanted everyone to throw on confetti and colorful hats, blowing excitedly on whistles and clashing gongs to step out, the rain goes away, her mother appears, and everybody would just all say it was a joke that her mother wasn't gone, that she stood right there. Right there, with a huge smile of hers and she would say she was kidding, and it would make Sakura look like a fool and she would come across the sounds of a sob and laugh, and she scold herself for being so foolish in front of everyone else.

She bit her lip, trembling intensely against the coffin when she had ceased her helpless wails, begging for that tiny ray of hope to come true. Yes, make her a fool who fell for a late April's Fool. Yes, make her blush profusely when the entire village laughed with her in this splendid joke. Please, make her believe this was not happening and when her mother dusts off her deathbed clothes when she stepped out of the false coffin, that she would lead her into the house and make her favorite dinner. Her father would go about reading the newspaper, smoking his pipe, and crack some harmless jokes that make everyone laugh with him, not because it's funny but because of his terrible deliveries.

Then the next day, she would bashfully step out of the house and be greeted with the rest of the village, and she would laugh along more ever. And she would meet the Rokudaime for an early lunch at his favorite dig-in Ichiraku, where the ramen chef would remind her of that fool's play, and she would blush embarrassingly and whisper to her best friend about that and ask when everyone would stop this ridiculous gossip. Naruto would only chuckle, then the two teammates would dig into their ramen but she would always end up paying the expensive tab and she would bonk him on the head for being an idiot, and he would comeback with the same ridicule calling her an idiot for falling for such a stupid prank. And she would flush, and she would laugh while she picked him up off the ground where they would go to the Yamanaka flower shop, not to buy flowers but to admire them and to listen the babbles of Ino's when she talked about how people knew about this harmless joke they had inflicted on Sakura. And she would laugh, her cheeks hot from embarrassment and she would go back to her parent's house, where she would see her parents alive and well, grateful for all the things she had now.

Yes, make that come true.

Please, make that come true.

Sakura knew she would die if that didn't come true.

Please…

Please…

…_please_…even for a second…

The pink-haired young woman clutched the coffin with all her might, almost breaking through the hard wood, the flowers falling around the ground when she messed up the decorations. Make that happen for her. She wanted more than anything in the world, just right now, where she would bury her face into her mother's residing bed and she whispered the lines of the poem she had always loved, but never knew it was about, like magical enchantments over and over again, wanting to feel that sparkle off a magical wand she seen with fairy godmothers off of bed time stories…the kind of stories her mother told…

Please make it come true…

Please…

Please—_no_…

No.

No, she mustn't lie to herself, not now anyways.

She picked up her drenched body from the casket like a grotesque , weeping and hiccupping, and regretting. She could almost, just almost, feel the warmth of her mother's body escalate towards her own permeable soul, grown rigged from behind the bars of her tight ribs. She could feel her mother's face, with that undying smile on her face, and she looked up with caring eyes at her only child and loved her now, and from above, for growing up into a young strong and beautiful woman, the kind of daughter she had always wanted.

Sakura forced herself to slump down on her knees, her long black skirt was dirtied by the wet muddy ground. The dark colors had crushed against the dull turquoise, whether she felt herself crying or not, all the tears washed away with the rain. It was cold, bitter, and just so wonderful. Like a cool blanket, or the light breeze of autumn, she loved the rain when it plundered its pistol bullets of frozen water on her pale skin. She gripped the grass, raking dirt to underneath her nails and she pushed her forehead against the coffin.

Loving the rain, loving her mother, loving the lines of the poem she now understood but could not when she was a child, loving how much the lines of poetry had made her realize her life, loving how it made her come to an understanding to how her life was, loving the fact she had loved other people, loving that people loved her back, and loving the men she somehow could not choose through the many lists and varieties, how great they were, how she could have had any one of them.

It all just didn't matter anymore.

The moment she had stopped screaming to an abrupt stop, coughing hoarsely against the casket, the audience watched her recline and fought with herself. They knew she was a strong and smart girl, but so stupid and weak in so many other ways.

She smiled to herself, remembering them. The sweet memories.

She passed by the group of black umbrellas, the rain pouring off them like fountains into the grass and they watched quietly and knew even though she were still that smiling girl who stood behind a crowd of fair more superior figures, she would always single them out with her strength and her beauty. They were stunned to see such a living being capable in making a group of men fall for her so effortlessly, even when she didn't want them to fall in love but was pleased with a smile gracing her lips. They lived their lives, watching her from behind objects, from behind other smaller people, with their affectionate eyes they begged for her one touch.

That small group of men soon realized that how lucky she was, when they got to sleep with her.

She realized that too when she woke up in the morning with every one of them.

But…who said anything about sex?

**To Be Continued**


	2. Enter Shikamaru

**Disclaimer:** Whatever, I don't need to own Naruto to write fanfiction.

Penname: _LiveLoveLaugh_

FanFiction Story: **Sleeping Princes**

**Summary:** They called her a slut, a whore. Sweetheart. Even lucky. Life goes on, as one by one she passed every man in her life. She had a chance to sleep with every one of them, too. But…who said anything about sex? Sakura-factor One-shots

_Enter Shikamaru_

* * *

'Do I really have to say something? I mean isn't being heartbroken troublesome enough? Besides, I'm really tired now, and I—okay, fine, I'm going to say that I never knew why she didn't tell the story of why she cut off her hair. Yes, you head me. It usually would be a huge gossip spread around the village if people were to hear it. She came out of the forest, after having a double-knockout with her own rival, and best friend, and I remember when her mother went hysterical over her short cut. Even when she had snipped a whole chuck from her head to come off from my opponent's hand in the Forest of Death. I always thought it was very necessary for women like her to have long and pretty hair to impress men like that Uchiha. Wait, not that I'm saying she has bad hair or anything!—no, she has very beautiful hair, very glossy and long…I didn't think it'll be so fun and comforting to play with women's hair…'

* * *

He curled her hair in his fingers, twining with middle and index finger through the pink tresses while turning the strands into pools of circles. Her face was faced towards him, cuddling in his white pillow with her hair spade over her closed eyes and pretty nose. A few strands flew up slightly from the breath of her parted pink lips, she cooed and snuggled against his arm which he positioned over her head. The young man slump the top of his head against the headboard, resting his right temple against the part of the pillow the two were sharing. The kunoichi was sleeping underneath him slightly, her hands clasped possessively on the blanket sheets while she nestled her shapely legs with his.

It was a cool night, they were both naked in his mattress with the blanket over their middle abdomens. They didn't really care about the weather outside, the cold in waves in the entire apartment. They used their warmth for an extra blanket, ignoring the goosebumps on their shoulders or exposed necks. He shivered slightly when he moved the sheets down a little, when he couldn't sleep sometimes he'd always make a habit of staying up late to think.

The only light was the dim golden-yellow exposure from the lamp on top of the nightstand on her sleeping side. The rays had magnified the slivers of her hair into something bright, like sparkling hotwires or red orange strips of confetti. He could tell he was wasting a lot of electricity for just staying up for hours just watching the way her hair looked in every angle, but he couldn't help it.

Any man would know that.

He still had no idea how he had been doing this. His analytical eyes were scanning over her halo hair like a chessboard, or a battle field. He twirled the hair right in place, in a precise order, perfecting every round curve with his forefinger. He never knew he was so creative when he mixed paints with an invisible paintbrush and dipped into her long locks, creating rosy clouds or pink meadows with just playing with her hair. He was artistic with this new found skill, drawing pictures of ocean waves with smiling blushing suns. He used her hair as a canvas, rubbing only very lightly with his nails over the cherry tresses.

Even though he didn't like to say—aloud anyway—but she had the prettiest hair he ever seen. Whether she had spend all her time in front of the mirror like his blond female teammate combing through with a thousand strokes, if it were natural, or if she made it a primary note to always dip down her head to let the strands fall over her slender shoulders or to just to let _him_ see the fluid movements when it blew in the wind. He bent down his chin just a bit to run his lips through her hair, creating more patterns on the curls.

He took off his hair band from the feather duster style he always held tightly on top of his head. His dark shorter hair had blend quite nicely on the woman's hair, his masterpiece. The annoying pieces of his hair had itched against his smooth face, making him squinted his nose disapprovingly but he would do it now, just for tonight. Not because she said it looked nicer for him, or that his head ache less when he sleeps, or even because he wanted crowds of troublesome women would run after him in a horde of sexually-crazed estrogen-developing machines.

But because he would like to see her pretty blush in the morning when she wakes up to see his hair in that adorable chaotic way. Only because he wanted her to tease him and run her pale fingers through the dark locks, cooing slightly like she was petting a cute puppy. He wanted her eyes to look at his hair for a moment, so he could have an irritating second to stare at her glancing eyes looking elsewhere, then he would swoop his lips with hers, surprising her. Then their hands would both run through each other's hair, and they would sit upright meshing their lips together over their tongues and teeth to taste each other. And in that moment he would like to say he liked to unbound his hair more often.

A genius would always have everything planned.

The claimed lazyass tiredly reached over to turn off the switch on the nightstand lamp, the room became immensely dark except for the gray stripes on the opposite wall created from the blinded window in his small bedroom. He felt her move against her body, unclenching the blankets from her greedy eager hands to throw them around his middle, messing up his art. She smiled silly when the strands of his hair tickled her nose a little and bent over to run her lips over the curve of his neck. He sighed, closing his eyes exhaustingly. He forgot what he drew in the morning, but it never mattered.

She'll only come back.

* * *

_Afterthoughts_

He stared after the back of the woman he loved, remembering that moment when they both slept together in the same bed. He wanted to feel her body again, but after that night he always seen her walking away to somewhere else. To someone else. He knows she didn't do it deliberately, but she was like the clouds he looks up to see in the sky.

She would always move with the winds, she would always dissipate into thin air only leaving behind a remembrance. No, he would never regret the time he had with her. He loved her. He had more sense than throw his anger on her.

But…was it enough just watching her going farther and farther away from him, until she disappeared.

He was angry at her for walking away without knowing. He was angry at himself for letting her walk away. He didn't think he would ever forgive her for her foolishness and recklessness. She was always like that, she would never change. And the worst part was, she didn't know what she was doing to him.

Only if she came back for another night, only if she stayed one more night, he would cradle her in his arms and create yet another painting through her beautiful hair.

That'll be alright for him.

**To Be Continued**


	3. Presenting Rock Lee

**Disclaimer:** Whatever, I don't need to own Naruto to write fanfiction.

Penname: _LiveLoveLaugh_

FanFiction Story: **Sleeping Princes**

**Summary:** They called her a slut, a whore. Sweetheart. Even lucky. Life goes on, as one by one she passed every man in her life. She had a chance to sleep with every one of them, too. But…who said anything about sex? Sakura-factor One-shots

_Presenting Rock Lee_

* * *

'I loved her the moment I saw her. Do I continue? Oh! Alright, then. Wait a minute, what are you saying? Oh! Oh…yeah. Yes, yes, I can tell many of people out there in the audience would scoff and whisper mean things about me, but, hey, don't say that—well, what I'm trying to say is that I love her very much. I fell in love with her at first sight. Unbelievable isn't it? And I used to be like all of you out there, never having the time of the day to think about such things read off a lovey-dovey book, but that doesn't mean I don't believe in love! No! But I was always the one training hard with Gai-sensei to strengthen my body in the arts of Taijutsu to the calling sounds of my determination and hard work. And you know what? I did get to beat a genius, actually many geniuses. But I never thought I could have seen the day when hard work wouldn't matter when you love her. She's this very special fine woman, and I dubbed her my precious someone. Yes, I didn't believe in love at first sight. I didn't give it much thought. But the moment I met her, I discovered I was wrong all along…'

* * *

He held her tightly to his body. The Green Beast couldn't help his actions, he just wanted her as close as possible. She was sleeping on the left side of his very small bed, so she wouldn't be cold next to the window. He did have the shutters closed, he even checked if the windows were tightly closed too, but the weather was oddly cold. She only wore her undergarments and his giant over-sized green tee shirt over her beautiful body, he shook when her bare foot brushed over his calf immediately causing him to think about her health. His arms tightened fiercely, hopefully her body would accept his heat. He wanted her to be warm as possible, so she wouldn't be sick—there was a bad flu bug coming around the area he had read about, and he most certainly won't like her to catch that!

"…Lee-san, you're hurting me…" she whispered tiredly, absentmindedly tapping on his shoulder. She fluttered her long eyelashes and yawned. She had no idea what she said when she fell asleep, cooing like an infant against his strong build. She must have been very exhausted.

He trembled slightly, loosening his hold on her. The influenza spread wasn't the only reason why he wanted her so close.

He looked down on her, and couldn't remember how long it was when he didn't stop for an instant without thinking about her. About her pretty smiles, her blushes, her hair, her everything. He loved her uniqueness, even if her unique qualities are far from his. She was a delicate angel, with a strong potential of becoming an equally strong kunoichi.

When he couldn't seem to hold back, he moved over to push his lips on her temple. He was very soft, causing her to sigh against his pajama top. He lowered his eyes affectionately, and through these long seconds, he would show her how much she meant to him. His thick signature eyebrows brushed against the shorter bangs of her pink hair, he moved his lips over her charmingly wide forehead and over her slender normal-sized eyebrows. His lips crawled down her nose to the tip, moving over to the warm cheeks. He pulled away in awe, he was still having a hard time believing she didn't pull away from his motives but instead leaned closer. He stared deeply at her with his round cartoon black eyes, his head pressed against the pillow he rested on with his bowl cut messy in a cute way, she had told him before she fell asleep.

She smiled adorably, and parted her lips to press on the collar of his sleeping top. He looked at her, blinking slowly.

He loved her since the day he met her. He loved her so very much, it would hurt even more to let go.

He was a desperate man with desperate needs. He wanted to know if she had the same feelings for him as he did for her. No one could really call them just 'feelings' that he felt everyday when he looked at her. He knows she's a very attractive woman, no matter how much she neglects it, and he knows the looks of strangers when they look at her. Even though he tries to deny it, but he already seen her with other men. No matter how much he didn't like it, he didn't want to hurt any of them because of his repressed bundle of anger and jealousy.

And he most definitely didn't want to hurt her.

The young man, the proclaimed ugly duckling was now a beautiful swan. He was a Prince Charming in disguise. He was gallant knight in shining armor riding on a steed to rescue the love of his life. He had a heart of gold, he was too nice for his own kind. His pure love was handed to her all wrapped up like a Christmas present with a giant bow and shiny wrapping paper, just waiting for her to open it up. But with all that, with all those qualities, it never seemed to be enough for her.

Or the fact she didn't seem to want to accept _only_ his love.

He shut his eyes, but he couldn't sleep, he was desperate. He wanted her to want him, to take him in her arms. He wanted her to do all the things for him as he would for her. If he had to, he would lasso a moon and drag to her apartment. If he had to, he would climb mountains. If he had to, he'll let her go if she asked him to. He'll do anything for her, anything, absolutely anything—

"…go…to sleep…" she whispered absentmindedly, and he obliged.

* * *

_Afterthoughts_

He stood out there like a lovesick fool, haven't got a clue on how to handle a crying woman. Her mother just died, and he fucking just stood there with the rest of the idiots. He was burning with desire for her, and she walked pass him with tears in her eyes. He could have just offered her his umbrella. He had done that so many times before, he didn't mind walking in the rain—it would be like a training session, or something. But she was always a kind person and would walk with him together.

But no, today was different.

And he struggled with himself to run after her. She was soaking wet, she was going to get sick, and it would be his fault. She was walking away, and when she passed by him unfazed by his presence, he trembled inwardly. He wanted to do something, he wanted to come to her side with an embrace, talk to her, and just be there for her for now. He glanced depressingly when she walked so far away now, he had to turn around to see her retreating back.

But he didn't. He didn't move at all from his spot. He wanted to do something, anything, but he challenged himself with his pride with the men. He tried his best to mend his faces with the faces of theirs. He was just like them sadly. He just stood there with the other group of men, all whose faces were stone and a slight frown had marred their placid faces. He felt so cold, like the night he slept next to her. He wasn't applying that she was unloving or anything harsh, and insulting, he was only mentioning that the weather was eerie and strange.

Just today's. When he watched the love of his life walk away, and even though she didn't ask for it, the message was clear then and there. She wanted them for their comfort, including his, and she wanted to be with all of them. But she couldn't. She shouldn't.

He thought sadly, regretting the jealousy deep in his soul.

Maybe he didn't have a heart of gold, after all.

**To Be Continued**


	4. Delivery from Shino

**Disclaimer:** Whatever, I don't need to own Naruto to write fanfiction.

Penname: _LiveLoveLaugh_

FanFiction Story: **Sleeping Princes**

**Summary:** They called her a slut, a whore. Sweetheart. Even lucky. Life goes on, as one by one she passed every man in her life. She had a chance to sleep with every one of them, too. But…who said anything about sex? (Sakura-factor) One-shots

_Delivery from Shino_

* * *

'If you're going to ask me about my experiences in love, don't. Because you're going to get only one straight answer, and that would be would only a stare from a pair of my intimidating sunglasses. Why, you ask? I don't know, not really. But I would only answer depending on your questions. Now you ask if I ever loved at all. Yes, I did. I love my clan, my father, my old Genin team, my Kikai…no? Not the kind of answer you want? Well, you didn't seem to be able to ask the right kind of question. Now, you call me cynical. I always was. The audience never seemed to pay any attention to me. Another question? Who do I love? Why would you ask me another ridiculous query? You already know, didn't I just—oh, I see. _That_ kind of question. Stop trying to explain to me, just ask me something. Yes, now that's a question…'

* * *

He didn't know what to do when he found her asleep on his bed. What was he supposed to do? He thought all she was going to do was wait for him so they could have a late dinner together since it was such a nice night, but that didn't seem to be the cause anymore. He trembled slightly when she curled into the now wrinkled teal green striped sheets of his, sprawling out the messy strands of her bun plucked up with two beaded hairpins. She brought her arms up to her chest, brushing underneath her lip with a curled finger.

He never would have thought. He never would have guessed.

He analyzed her from a distance, his body was frozen solid, as if a single movement could wake her up. And somehow, he didn't want her to. She must have been tired, poor thing, her entire body nearly took up all the room on the bed with her legs dragging at the side. Her teacher must have killed her during that training session. His bed was pushed against the plain wall, with two plain striped pillows against a short headboard, with one nightstand holding up a plain lamp. The walls were painted a beige color, quite a boring color, and only having a desk, chair, and wardrobe closet off to the side. There wasn't really anything in his neat bedroom, hell, it could never be _called_ a bedroom. Though, to be honest, he only spent his sleeping hours in there and spends all his free time studying wildlife outside so there was never any time to make a mess or sport any personality in the room.

"I like your room, it says a lot about you," she once told him.

He was very surprised at her answer but didn't say anymore into it.

His perpetually slanted eyebrows lowered slightly in his dark spectacles, marring his solid smooth looks into a kind of intense of ferocity seeing that he almost resembled an unmoving rock who miraculously _does_ talk, but only when it was necessary. But she was always was the one, besides his infuriating teammate and his dog, to put a sort of emotion in his face. And he didn't really like that.

Yes, it's the topic of the century, as he knows, when you want to talk about someone like him. No, wait, there wasn't a 'someone else', it's just _him_. He wasn't a very interesting fun guy, he was actually the exact opposite. But he was human, not a pet rock, and he did like things and did not like things. He also finds that amusing. He couldn't say he had ever hated something, other than wanting to choke Kiba on and off the seasons, but that wasn't really the point. And he couldn't say he actually ever loved someone, well, maybe moderately, but…had he ever—?

He snapped out of his thoughts when he heard the sleeping young woman groan. She shifted her legs, which were _bare_ considering the very short length of her training skirt, and moved slightly to fit vertically across the bed. He noted that she was getting his sheets a little dirty, but he didn't seem to mind, since his Kikai bugs would clean everything in the house in one sweep including laundry. The hair began to loosen, leaving the pins to fall off the bed and make a sound on the wooden floor.

She moaned softly, he trembled yet again. He still didn't know why. And he didn't like that.

He didn't like not knowing, he didn't like to be left out of anything. Why do you suppose he was clearly pissed off, uh, if he was, when the puppet guy forfeited his match? He wanted to know everything, he'd like to inform about everything and even though he didn't seem to be a gossip god nor does he use the advantages of spying though his destruction insects, but he liked to be prepared for everything. This is why he was angry, even though he didn't look like it, but he was trembling when the young woman had position herself in his bed and have her head on his pillows, one elbow had already dipped into his once neatly folded sheets.

Even in this disarray of crazy mindless quarrels with his mind, concerning his self control, his anger had contorted into uncontrollable warmth spreading across his face. The sun was still setting, when he looked out of his blinded window, a streak of purple and orange had cascaded across the late afternoon blue skies and the golden orb had turned red and brown which it came down from behind the Hokage Monument. And just watching her, and for no apparent reason, had him stop thinking and just watching.

He still stood where he had stood before. But now, when her lips parted and the pretty blush had blotted her cheeks, he stepped closer until he was at the foot of the bed. He didn't like not knowing, but just looking down on her sleeping angelic form had him thinking of how beautiful she was.

"Shino…" she murmured, opening her tired eyes slightly and she looked up at him, "…sit down…"

And he had stated more than once he didn't like not being informed, but somehow when he slept next to her…

He'd agree it was for the best not knowing.

* * *

_Afterthoughts_

He was silent as usual. He didn't want to talk. He didn't want to move. He didn't want to look at her. But he did all that anyway. He was the first one to whisper her name, he turned his head which motioned for the other men to do so, and he looked at her straying form. She was hurt, and he wanted to do something. And at these moments, it made him irritated.

What was it about her that made him want to do these things? Why is she always the one who brings everyone's attention to him? He actually liked to be secluded from a crowd, he liked to blend in and then when the time comes, he would attack. What happened to the people who usually fend away from him—yeah, he also likes to be intimidating to the people so they wouldn't underestimate them, that way he could keep himself superior amongst others even though he didn't like showing off, but everyone would respect him.

What's wrong with her?

Something about her never seemed to be right to him, something about her always made him greedy, and he was a gentleman and he didn't like to flaunt his desires in front of an audience. He didn't like to be the one to ask questions. But wasn't she supposed to be the one who was creep out by someone like him? Wasn't he an Aburame? Doesn't he have thousands of black bugs hidden and crawling underneath his skin who comes to his command, and when they land on pretty flesh like hers, he could kill her without hesitation?

Is she crazy?

But was it something she saw that everyone else didn't seem to see? Not even him? And in that moment, he wanted to follow her. But he couldn't. He sensed the looks of every other man standing with him under all those umbrellas. He can't single himself out, something grew within that he couldn't apprehend. A feeling, an annoying emotion. He memorized an entire dictionary, and yet, he couldn't define what he felt for her. He remembered that night when they slept in the same bed, it was sort of comforting and warm when their bodies lay together.

His hidden eyes lowered, how long was it when he wasn't so alone?

The rain was beating down hard.

**To Be Continued**


	5. Ask Neji

**Disclaimer:** Whatever, I don't need to own Naruto to write fanfiction.

Penname: _LiveLoveLaugh_

FanFiction Story: **Sleeping Princes**

**Summary:** They called her a slut, a whore. Sweetheart. Even lucky. Life goes on, as one by one she passed every man in her life. She had a chance to sleep with every one of them, too. But…who said anything about sex? (Sakura-factor) One-shots

_Ask Neji_

* * *

'What the hell are you guys doing here? I thought I put down a restraining order! Why have you been following me so endlessly? Yes, my teammate had told me about you freaks. Why in the world do you want to answer your pathetic questions? Excuse me…? I love _who_? You want to know_ that_? That's it! Get out! I don't care if you have starving children back at home or your life depends on this crazy job, but I had enough! What do you mean this would only five seconds? Fine go on, but too bad your time is up! Just a saying? Alright, fine, you can stay—damn it you're even more stubborn than that Haruno—wait what? _That's_ what you're prying at me about? Want my opinion on her? I think she's annoying. Why? Because I can't seem to be able to stop thinking about her…'

* * *

She has a _huge_ forehead. That was he could have said.

Before he could tell, it had happen. A strong pressure had collided on his arm, nearly making him fall over from the comfortable, though hard lacquer furniture. He looked from over the paperback book he was reading, turning irritated at the stupid woman who fell asleep on _his_ shoulder. He lowered his eyebrows dangerously. He didn't want this closeness from someone so immature and stupidly cheerful on his shoulder, especially _sleeping_, and when someone sleeps no matter how many times they deny it, they would _drool_.

And that's very unpleasant.

He grimaced she leaned more of her weight on him, slipping her arms around his elbow and nestled close to him like he was pillow. He wasn't a comforting kind of man, and he really was used to all the attention she was giving him. He was still clueless to why she persisted to having a 'fun' day with him because she was so sick of his consistent meditating and training without a break. And so he went reluctantly, only because his cousin made him. She had came over, waking him up so damn early in the morning and he never knew how bored he was until the end of all the fun when she dragged him all over the restaurants, stores, and other unattractive amusements—it was possibly everywhere he went in the Hidden Leaf and he wasn't impressed.

He had only wanted to sit down in one of his rooms and read a book _alone_, but the girl followed him like a lost puppy and sat stubbornly next to him until he agrees to come out with her again. So he decided to play her game. But he only made it fun for _him_, when he sat for hours reading while she just sat there and watched him, groaning and moaning of the same kind of boredom he too had suffered through the useless field trip. Now, probably because it was too tiring for her to handle, three hours later she had fallen asleep on top of him and nearly crushed him with her not so nice heaviness.

He shrugged his shoulder back and forth, trying to wake her up and kick her out of the Hyuuga Estate before the afternoon kicks in. He dropped his uninteresting book on the wooden floor, turned to his side where she fell down on his lap before he picked her up roughly by the shoulders and brought her up to the face.

And only then, he realized how close she was to him.

Her head fell down in a snap, making her wide forehead look almost larger in sight and brush against his nose. He clenched his teeth furiously, picking her up in place to sit properly to wake her up. When her head began to move all over the place, he knew this game was getting out of place. And very quickly, her huge forehead smashed against his own.

Whatever happened then and there, he couldn't tell, but it happened. In that moment when their foreheads collided, his hitae-ate fell off and landed on the ground the scurry of their sandaled feet. His white eyes were wide and he felt the bare flesh of his exposed forehead pushed against hers, like a magnet he couldn't let go. He didn't even know if he wanted to. It was like lightning, but so much more quicker, it hit into his brain sending down nervous shocks straight through his spine making him completely attentive how cute she looked up close.

When she slid off by her own weight shifting, he unconsciously traced the finger of the mentally painful scar on the middle of his forehead and trembled at the green cursed seal. But for that moment he felt as if she had released him from his cage. It was a moment's surprise, and he couldn't believe how free and fleeting he felt. It was that shock that caused that emotion, and he wanted to experience it again but he found her head cuddling on his lip with a funny red mark on her big forehead.

And somehow, his face had contorted into a warm emotion when she opened her eyes only a little and she looked up at him confusingly when he pressed his lips onto hers. She was frozen too, then melted in his embrace and she tiredly kissed him back, swirling her hot tongue with his tangoing sensual muscle in an exotic dance. She didn't question this questionable game they played, but her hands slipped slightly into his shirt and felt his taut stomach while he ran his hands up her biceps and into her pink locks. She fluttered her eyelashes, falling asleep on his chest. Then he closed his eyes while he slept with her on the couch.

He couldn't remember a time when he couldn't stop smiling.

* * *

_Afterthoughts_

He was in utter hell, when he stared after her like a weakling. How was she able to give him so much strength after that afternoon nap together? He didn't understand why she had become his confidant. When they woke up, she left him with a smile on her face, he never been more happier than ever before. He never expected to win so much from the game they played, even though now, he didn't know whether it was reality or fiction.

Something about her had ignited a part of him he thought had extinguished a long time ago. He continued playing their games, teasing her and picking on her playfully. But soon, through the blindness of his amusements, it didn't seem to be all that funny for her anymore.

No, she wasn't angry at him because he teases about her forehead. But in some way, she began to slip through his fingers like sand, and even though she didn't know it, he soon realized it was too late when he saw her with other men he couldn't blame. What he felt for her was so much more stronger than anything he had ever felt, and he loved that and he thrived in that. And in her everlasting unspoiled love for the people around her, he had found a sanctuary in it. And he would without it.

She was an addiction after he found out how much she meant to him, and he couldn't bring himself to stop thinking about her. Day and night, he came up with excuses to dodge away from the fact he began to become human. He wanted her warmth, her love, her care because that was what had fulfilled the dead years of his ruined childhood back to pieces. And all the while one by one, men after men came to love her as much, and he couldn't say he was very deserving. It was a madness that drove him crazy. If he were to have her stop crying, and wrecking his life, somehow he would be able to forgive her for causing him all the unwanted jealousy of men who received the same treatment she gave to him.

But all he knew was, her love was now straying when she walked further away from him.

And he couldn't stop her.

**To Be Continued**


	6. Mind of Gaara

**Disclaimer:** Whatever, I don't need to own Naruto to write fanfiction.

Penname: _LiveLoveLaugh_

Fanfiction Story: **Sleeping Princes**

**Summary:** One of these days...they'll tell her what they feel for her. But right now, right then, being right next to her, just let them rest...Sakura factor One-shots

_Mind of Gaara_

* * *

'…I'm not even going to bother saying anything to someone like you. If you don't get out of my office, I will kill you.'

* * *

It was strange, for a man like him to be in a bed.

He never had a use for them, besides sitting down for a moment or lying on it to stare up into the ceiling, since he never slept before. He didn't understand the concept of 'sleep' as well as other people did. He was a long time insomniac, the baggy black eyes and ghostly pale skeleton body can tell tales of his tiredness and long years of awake exhaustions. Many times to keep himself busy at nights, he go up on rooftops to brood all hours long, or now that he was a young leader of his village, the damn _paperwork_. But mostly up to now, he would keep to himself in his office. He understood it would also be frightening for the villagers in Hidden Sand to be alert for a dark being lurking around the streets, possibly creeping into curtained windows to watch their innocent children sleep, spreading dusts of sand to cover their dreary eyes while a dagger held over their heads…

Bah, something like that. He wasn't a fucking Sandman for crying out loud, that kind of idea is ridiculous and terribly stupid. Well except for the sand, or the fact he _is_ a man…so maybe he was. But he knows he would deny—even kill someone—if they were ever to bring up that revelation. But, that doesn't well explain why he made himself 'creep into a window and watch an innocent sleeping woman nap?'

Her damp braided pink hair was twined into sweaty patches over the cotton pillow top. He instantly smelled the beads of bitter saltiness that had washed across her entire lithe body the moment he broke into her bedroom. He began to pant slightly as he sat on the windowsill, watching her sleep. The heat around her apartment was in waves, making her breathing hoarse and dry. She kicked off the thin blanket from her body, revealing long bare legs with only a pair of lime drawstring shorts and a thin lilac camisole over her chest. The light in the bedroom was only a dark blue hue radiating from the night sky and half moon.

It was a hot day in the pleasant village, an even hotter day back in his own.

He had come to watch the upcoming Chuunin Tournament, seeing that he should speculate the three lucky Genin teams that had miraculously made it through the past exams. He had snuck away from his bodyguards, quite ironic since he had no need for them. He had put them into a dreamless daze in his bedroom from an inn half across the village, just so to visit _her_.

_Her_, that vile despicable woman who haunted his thoughts and had him questioning her motives.

He wanted to know for many long agonizing years, when he brood on top of roofs or doing his paperwork, or when his two favorite Leafs had come to visit him as he entertained them for some time, he just wanted to know why the hell do they keep talking about _her_. It bored him senselessly, for hours long the spandex-clad boy would drift from one subject to another like a comical cartoon, then going on to babble about the girl. And that shameful blush that crossed his face had annoyed him. It tortured him meaninglessly to even listen to the Rokudaime to even talk so highly about his best friend, as she were to be a piece of heaven they just tasted. Something through those idiotic talks, made him wonder why…they had……ever…even…fallen…in _love_…for _her_…?

She moved so little when she grasped the pillow in her slender hands to cup her cheek, she made almost no noise when she snoozed. Could it be because they loved her because she was _attractive?_ Yes, the red-haired demon vessel admits it, she's attractive. Is it because she has _features_ no other woman has? Yes, it might be. He had never seen pink hair on anyone else, pale skin, a huge forehead…and eyes…like his…? Could it be because she was _strong-willed_ and _stubborn_ as a mule? Respected? Pretty? Admired? Lo—

Was it because she was _loved?_

He didn't give himself the chance to hear his own words, as he asked her sleeping form snappishly in a childish impatient manner. He was terribly confused, even more frustrated to why he even wanted to talk to her. He barked quietly at the napping woman, with a scowl, "Why the hell do they love you so damn much?"

She remained asleep.

He stood over her bed like a towering shadow cascading over the weak innocent form, his eyes and face were burning from the heat that covered over his body like a blanket. He had seen men with her, he had seen they caress her face and her hands, the way their eyes had hovered over her with such warmth and love, emotions he can never be able to define, and yet, through his unanswered unspoken questions, he began to remain at the side of her bed just contently, yet yearning, to sleep.

No, he was a monster if he slept. He killed and rampaged in his sleep, he couldn't dream. If he were to even doze off, the monster within would take control and create mayhem. But how was it that when he stared at her, his eyes began to flutter slightly, his body falling closer to her own and he was unable to stop this pleasant feeling. He could almost dream of flying through clouds like everyone else, he saw sceneries, beautiful images that gave him that childish smile. That kind of smile he missed having on his face. He leaned over her, draping her arms over her as he breathed in her intoxicating flowery scent and he breathed softly over her. He pierced his lips from her elbow up to her shoulder, gently kissing her untainted skin. He could see the clouds now, he could feel the light pooling over his face and the wind in his hair…

The next thing he knew, he woken up next to her in her bed.

And he wondered from that day on, how was he able to sleep? How was he able to dream sweet dreams? Did they fall for her because she looked so _beautiful_ when she slept? Did this night mean anything to him? He left before she woke up, leaving back to his inn where he contemplate on such hard difficult questions.

But what he didn't know, was that she was awake throughout the entire night…

* * *

_Afterthoughts_

He wanted his questions answered. He wanted them answered right now.

He watched her walk further away, soaking in the cold rain. He slowly held his hand over his heart, clutching the blue white garb. It was a sort of habit he had abandoned a long time ago. He frowned slightly, lowering his dull green eyes. She's putting emotions within him. She's messing with him. And he liked it. He watched the group of men from the corner of his eyes, knowing that these men…these fools…poor lovesick fools. But…somehow he wasn't angry at her…he just wanted to be alone now…

And since no one seemed to be giving him any answers, he decided he would be keeping quiet now…

**To Be Continued**


End file.
